Although we have more leisure time in our lives, we are having less fun. We could reap the benefits throughout our lives if we would give ourselves permission to indulge in some childlike fun. Realizing that I might not have been taking fun seriously, I'm committed to now share freely my own particular brand of fun without hesitation with anyone who asks.
At the halfway mark of the year, it's a great time to regroup, reconnect, and recharge. This year has been moving at lightning speed and the pace, along with the ubiquitous change, has made for a challenging year so far. I've welcomed the slower pace of summertime this year and I've been reminded yet again that our current ways aren't working.
With the competition in full swing, millions spend hours sitting in front of TVs and computer screens, while their teams engage in grueling matches. Even if you discount all the drinking and snacking that typically comes with watching games on television, the fact that people sit for extended periods of time is disconcerting enough.
I was raised on a dairy farm in Belledune, a small community on New Brunswick's North Shore. By the time I showed up to school in the fall of 1968, the schoolhouse was bordered by a smelter on one side and a fertilizer plant on the other. I started hearing a little voice inside me saying, "Do something!"
When I was a kid, like many of my friends I would race home after school so I could change and get outside to play. Our time was, for the most part, totally unstructured, unless you consider being told to "be home when the streetlights go on" as structure. There are many theories as to whether exposing our kids to this type of structure and (arguably) overscheduling is good for them.
The number of Syrian refugees who have fled to neighbouring countries is expected to reach two million in the coming weeks. Approximately half of these human beings are children. In some ways, helping the Syrian refugee children is remarkably simple. But what do you offer a child who wakes screaming in the middle of the night, reliving a rocket attack on his house?
Moms at the park playing with their kids are a common sight in most neighborhoods. Not surprisingly then, is it any wonder that there are as many different types of moms at the park as there are days of the week? Read on and you'll find that you'll likely recognize at least a few of these parents at your local playground.
After the community feast in Sheshegwaning First Nation, as we were preparing to drive back to Sudbury, one of the girls I met asked me if I was ever coming back. I replied that yes, maybe one day I would make it back there for another visit. Still unsure of my impact, I asked the girl why she wanted me to come back. And she said, "Because nobody ever comes here."